


Veiled

by bloodbending



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodbending/pseuds/bloodbending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku can't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veiled

**Author's Note:**

> first work for this fandom.. or in ao3.. op..
> 
> I wrote this in response to a prompt on tumblr: "pretending to married." I had so much fun writing this!! I wanted to do kouao for so long. This takes place post-good ending, by the way, before Aoba has his hair cut.
> 
> enjoy! until next time.

"Aoba, would you hold still please?" The bobby pins in Koujaku’s mouth bobbed up and down as he spoke. "It’s hard to do this if you keep moving around."

Aoba frowned, his scalp tingling where Koujaku had scooped up more of his hair between his fingers. He felt faint surprise mixed in with his annoyance--he thought his hair had gone numb already.

"How much longer is it gonna take?" Aoba asked, tilting his head back to look at Koujaku. Upside down, Koujaku’s concentrated frown slowly faded, the pins in his mouth curving up like a scarecrow’s as he grinned. Aoba’s eyes narrowed. "What? Do I look that funny?"

"No, no, you don’t look funny," Koujaku said, his smile full in his voice. He tried to hide it with his hand, removing the pins from his mouth and brushing his fingers along the nape of Aoba’s neck, silently asking him to sit upright again. Aoba jolted up, swiveling in his seat to face Koujaku.

"You’re laughing! What are you doing to me?" He tried to ignore the heat in his face as Koujaku raised his palms and the pins in the air, his serious expression doing nothing to mask his growing smile.

"Nothing! I’m doing exactly what I told you I was going to do," he said. Aoba felt his skin prickle.

"No. You’re doing something weird to my head."

"I’m not." One edge of Koujaku’s mouth twitched.

"You are!"

"I’m—not—" The other edge.

Aoba grabbed the back of Koujaku’s salon seat, more embarrassed than angry. “Koujaku,” he said, his voice low. The other man was quivering with the effort to keep his face intact. He bit his bottom lip as if to seal in the laughter, only to have it spill out all at once. “It just.. looks surprisingly good..”

"Koujaku! I knew it!" Aoba said, grabbing the armrests on either side of his chair. "I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I’m leaving."

"A-o-ba, n-no," Koujaku breathed, his eyes squinted from the force of his laughter. "Aoba, it’s not that! W-wait." One arm of Aoba’s jacket was already on when Koujaku grabbed his shoulder. "Sit back down, please. I’m sorry for laughing, I just couldn’t help it."

Aoba huffed, preferring to examine the loose arm of his jacket than look up at Koujaku. Koujaku smiled again, but quickly righted himself, walking around to stand in front of Aoba.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing at you when you agreed to help me with this hairstyle. I know it’s still a bit uncomfortable when people touch your hair."

Aoba took a sidelong glance at Koujaku as he apologized, not moving his neck. He sighed at the familiar sincerity in his best friend’s voice, hesitating only a moment before shrugging off his jacket.

"You know, if you were anyone else, I would have punched you by now," Aoba said, plopping back down on the seat. He crossed his arms for good measure, much to Koujaku’s amusement.

"I know," Koujaku said, taking up his station behind him again. Aoba felt fingers along the crown of his head again, sectioning off hair and fastening it towards the back in measured, rhythmic motions. Aoba relaxed and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling in spite of himself. A few moments of comfortable silence stretched on before Koujaku spoke again, making a victorious sound around the clips in his mouth.

"There we go," he said. He adjusted a few curled tendrils of Aoba’s hair, then walked around the chair to the front, looking at him from all angles. Aoba squirmed a bit, suddenly self-conscious. He still refused to look at Koujaku, who was smiling and nodding at his superior handiwork. "Ah! I’ve done it again."

"You’re so smug. I’m really going to punch you."

"Come on, Aoba. I’m not making fun of you."

"Whatever." Aoba wondered why his face was so hot. Probably because Koujaku’s windows were closed, so it was hotter than usual. He looked up, finding it hard to stay mad at Koujaku’s direct gaze, even if it still was tinted with a faint amusement. "Can I use a mirror now?"

"Wait. One more thing." Koujaku disappeared into an adjacent room, emerging again with a small white box held between his hands. It was simple but elegant, adorned with nothing but a gold border and lock at its opening. Aoba watched him walk around and set it behind his chair, opening it carefully.

Koujaku stopped short, feeling Aoba’s eyes on him. He looked back, grinning. “Nope. The deal was that you couldn’t look until I was completely finished. Turn around.”

Aoba scoffed. “You’re such an annoying guy,” he said, rolling his eyes. Even so, Aoba turned around and waited. No matter how much he denied it, he was still a bit excited to see what Koujaku had done.

Aoba stiffened when a translucent material drifted in front of his face, falling gently along his cheeks and nose. Koujaku’s hands were at the top of his head, securing something there. It felt slightly heavy, wrapping his around his head and ending in the back of his ears.

_Huh?_

"Okay, now I’m finished," Koujaku chirped, coming back around to face Aoba again. "You—" Koujaku stopped, his voice trailing off. Aoba blinked, waiting for him to continue.

"Hm? What is it?" Aoba asked. He finally looked up at Koujaku again. The man’s smiling mouth had stayed open, as if frozen mid-word. He was really going to knock this guy’s teeth out.

"What is it already!" Aoba looked over Koujaku, scanning the room for a mirror. He spotted one on Koujaku’s night desk, tilted just at the right angle, catching the afternoon rays that filtered in through the glass window above the bed.

Aoba didn’t say anything for a while.

"Ah," he said finally.

"A-ah." Koujaku breathed, still frozen in front of the empty salon chair. "Ah. Aoba. Um—"

"A bride, huh? Nice." Aoba stared full at Koujaku now, strangely calm. He smiled, his face smooth. Koujaku was sweating, pointedly looking in another direction. "There is a veil on my head. Over my face," he continued. The hairstylist shivered.

"Koujaku."

"Okay! I thought it would be funny. A little funny. But listen to me—" Aoba interrupted, feeling a vein throb in the right corner of his forehead.

"You know, I did think my fox heel kick was getting rusty," he said, his voice soothing. "I should get some practice. You’re tall enough." Koujaku panicked, slapping both hands on Aoba’s shoulders as he tried to rise from his chair.

"A-a-a-aoba! Listen to me!" Koujaku stammered. "It looks—"

"It looks?" Aoba said, a dark aura drawing shadows across the hard line of his smile.

"It. Looks." Koujaku breathed, suddenly looking away from Aoba again. His grip on Aoba’s shoulders slackened. "It looks really good on you."

Aoba’s smile dropped. "Eh?"

He felt Koujaku’s hands tighten again. “It looks really good on you, Aoba,” he repeated, looking at him dead in the eye. Koujaku’s features were strained, his eyebrows knitted together so tightly and his mouth so taut that Aoba would have laughed if wasn’t about to pass out from the blood rushing to his head.

Aoba whispered something, his head dropping down to touch his chin.

"E-eh?" Koujaku said, worriedly drawing in closer to Aoba. "What did you say? Ao-"

"I SAID I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!" His veil moved across his face as he shot his neck up to yell, his ears and neck and face burning. Koujaku stared at him from almost at point-blank range, saying nothing for several moments. His face was almost blank, eyes wide.

Then he smiled. Then he laughed, and laughed and laughed, and Aoba knew he couldn’t win against him anymore.

Aoba muttered under his breath, covering his heated face with his hands.

"Aoba, please," Koujaku said, taking away one hand from Aoba’s shoulder to wipe at a stray tear from his eye. "Look up. You are really cute."

Between the spaces of his fingers, Aoba couldn’t help but watch that smile stretch across Koujaku’s face, easy and natural, and only for him.

"God, you are so embarrassing," he said, not taking his hands from his face. "I’m never gonna listen to you ever again."

Aoba felt lips slowly making their way down his cupped face, first at the top of his head, the spot where his hair met his skin, the tops of his fingers. Aoba groaned, slowly sliding his hands off his face, but keeping his eyes down.

"Are you okay?" Koujaku said, murmuring against his forehead. He could feel his smile on his skin.

 A small voice. “…Does it really look good?”

Koujaku’s laugh rumbled in Aoba’s chest, and ended on his mouth.


End file.
